


Drabbles Because Im Feeling Drabbley Series

by Alli97nomel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Birthdays, Drarry, Eating Disorder, Fluff, M/M, Mornings, hinting towards mind-blowing sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alli97nomel/pseuds/Alli97nomel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: Fuck I'm creative with titles. Anyways, I'm back! I've had so many experiences and I hope to write them all through these two glorious young men and maybe some others. I hope you like this (in all of its unedited glory) and I'M TAKING PROMPTS because I am now on holidays and I'm going to need to procratinate from my work somehow :))</p><p>Un bacio 3 (a kiss)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. The First Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fuck I'm creative with titles. Anyways, I'm back! I've had so many experiences and I hope to write them all through these two glorious young men and maybe some others. I hope you like this (in all of its unedited glory) and I'M TAKING PROMPTS because I am now on holidays and I'm going to need to procratinate from my work somehow :))
> 
> Un bacio 3 (a kiss)

I knew what he was thinking; it made me smirk.

No, he was thinking. Leave me alone, he was thinking. It's too early, he was thinking.

Clearly I didn't think that.

"Happy birthday," kiss "to you," kiss "happy," kiss "birthday," kiss "to you," kiss. My lips had begun pressing small, chaste kisses on his wrist and worked up his arm until my mouth reached his shoulder. "Happy birthday," I whispered in his ear, before nuzzling it with my nose.

He inhaled deeply into his pillow, stretching out his legs and curling his toes under the *doona. He tensed he muscles as he stretched and then exhaled and became limp with an accompanying groan. Without opening his eyes he turned his head to the side, not letting the light in, as that would be accepting that he was being woken up and Draco never gave in without a fight. " 's not my birthday," he mumbled, " 's too early. 's time to sleep."

"Oh no," I said, shaking my head, "none of that. Definitely not."

"Yes," he protested. It resembled a tired parent desperate to sleep in late on a Saturday morning, but was being pestered awake by their whiney three year old. I slid my right arm over onto his back and gently rubbed my fingers along his spine, pressing patterns in the places I knew felt good. Draco hummed in appreciation and I grinned. My hands trailed up his back to his neck and I gently massaged there before running my hands his white-blonde hair.

Slowly, Draco opened one eye, regarding me sleepily. "Good morning," I whispered. There were a few seconds of silence before a sigh of surrender, "Oh, go on then." I grinned immediately, pulling him on top of me as he lifted himself up slightly; our chests were pressed flush against each other. He buried his head between the contours of my neck and shoulder. I sighed contently as I ran my fingers through his hair. I liked this. Us. Me taking care of him. Having him in my grasp and being able to touch him, being able to be certain that he was real.

"So," I began, quietly, using my morning voice, "what do you want to do, now that you're a big boy?"

"Potter, I've always been a big boy." Draco said.

I snorted and hummed in amused agreement. "No really, what did you want to do today? You know, twenty two and all."

"I would like to sleep." I pinched his bum. "Twat!" he complained, nevertheless entwining our legs together. I hauled him up a bit further so that I could kiss along his neck.

"I'll make you breakfast, what do you **reckon?" I offered in between kisses.

"And have you burn down the kitchen. I'd rather not."

"Suppose you'll have to get up and do it yourself then," I smirked. "Eggs'd be nice."

"Do you know what else would be nice?" Draco asked, his neck still tilted, allowing me access."

"Mmh?"

"Blowjobs. Terrific method of making me wake up. Then I suppose you could let me fuck you, you know, being my birthday and all." Draco said casually, already slotting his leg between my two.

Harry laughed out loud, "Tosser."

"And then I will make you breakfast."

"Sounds delicious," I replied, not by any means at all referring to the breakfast.

"Well, get to it, Potter."

I bit my lip and starred at him. I knew that it was his birthday, and it was his choice, but I couldn't help but ask, yearn, really. "After," I began timidly, "make love to me? Fuck me slow and long 'til you can't see straight. Yeah?" I could feel it – the hot outline of his cock pressed against my leg through his underwear.

Draco swallowed dryly and nodded. "Y-yeah," he rushed, "yes, I will."

I flipped him around and crawled down.


	2. The Second Drabble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this during lunch time; it's as unedited as my sandwich was uneaten.

They had sex last night. They’ve been having sex for a while now so that’s not new. It’s just been lately that, well, lately he can’t seem to ignore it. It used to be in the back of his mind but lately it’s migrated to the forefront and he can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t eat or sleep or cast a fucking decent spell anymore because it’s eating away at him, like poison eroding his mind and _fuck_ what has he done wrong? It’s got to be his fault, right? And even if it’s not, it’s his fault for not noticing sooner or for not fixing it. And yes, it’s hard to see a change when you’re with someone everyday. It’s like that time when he’d come back to Hogwarts after the summer break and everyone commented on his growth spurt when he hadn’t even realised it himself because the change was so gradual. This had been gradual too; he doesn’t remember him being like this before.

 

He hasn’t told him anything and that only makes him feel worse because weren’t they supposed to tell each other everything? No secrets, right? It had always been, ‘be honest because we already hide enough’. It makes him sick to his stomach because he doesn’t know what’s going on inside his head and he never used to be able to imagine but now he sort of can and it must be terrible. So he’s doing everything that can think of to make it better, or to make it more durable at least. He knows he can’t fix him, he’s enough of a mess himself, but he can sure as hell try. He makes sure to kiss him until he’s sure he’s gasping for air. He tries to touch him, make him see stars, and then touch him again, leaving him bewildered and over-sensitised and reduce him to a quivering heap. He tries to make him smile, tries so hard. He tries all of these things in the hope that he can _see_ – see how much he is loved, and how beautiful he is. Because he is, always has been.

 

He remembers last night, remembers how tired the other boy had become after such a short amount of time. He was puffed out and panting, for reasons that weren’t pleasure. And he looked so fragile that he was afraid to break him. He’s been able to see the other boy’s bones for a while now and it makes him chest ache. He can feel his heart break every time he counts the other’s ribs and wrap his fingers around his arms. And _shit_ , can’t he see? Can’t he see the skeleton that he is? Doesn’t he know that this is _not_ normal? And, well, he obviously doesn’t see what he sees because he keeps getting thinner. And he knows that the rasp in his voice isn’t because he’s shoved his cock too far down his throat.

 

When they’re together and alone, when there’s heated breathing and skin, he kisses all over his body, every time. He hopes that he thinks it’s because he loves his body and wants to run his tongue along all of it, and that’s good, but that’s not the real intention. He makes sure to look everywhere to check for cuts or scars. He never finds anything, thank God, but that doesn’t mean that everything is okay – far from it.

 

He’s scared. He finds himself reaching out in the middle of the night, the ones where they’re together, and blindly feeling for him, making sure that he’s still there. That he’s _alive._ And _fuck_ he’s so scared that one day he won’t be. That won’t be able to shake him awake because he’s so tired lately, energy gone, and eats so little, but he wonders wether he even allows that miniscule amount to stay in there. He’s worried sick because he _loves_ him and he _needs_ him and he doesn’t know what he’d do if he weren’t there anymore because he feels _safe_ with him.

 

He stays up at night, staring blankly and the shadowy ceiling and thinks to himself _why_? He knows why. He could start a list and still be writing by the time the sun comes up. But isn’t he enough? He gives him all of his love, all he has to offer, all of himself, and isn’t that enough to make him okay? He used to think his love for him was so strong it could fix anything, or make miracles happen, but he’s not so sure anymore. He’s not sure about anything. And the things he is sure about aren’t good.

 

“You’d tell me, right?” Harry asks one night while they’re down by the lake. It’s May, which means they’ll all be going home soon. Harry’s not worried that Draco won’t be there next year. He’s _not_. _Not_ , he tells himself firmly, because it _won’t_ happen. “If something was wrong. You’d tell me?”

 

“Of course,” Draco replies, the words slipping off his tongue easily. They’re both lying back on the grass in the moonlight near the lake. They’re not supposed to be out there; they’re supposed to asleep in bed, but they’re mischievous and in love, so.

 

“Okay, good.” Harry nods, says it quickly, knows it isn’t enough. His lips are pressed tight together and he feels like shit. There’s a lot of silence for a long time after that, just listening to the crash of the tiny waves against the shore in the distance, the sounds of the forest at night and the slight wind that tosses his hair a bit. And h doesn’t want the words to slip out of his mouth, but it’s _Draco_ and he has to say something. He can’t be silent about this. He bites into his cheek so hard that he tastes the metallic tang of blood to try and keep quiet but he can’t, he just _can’t_. “See but I don’t think you would, because there’s something wrong now – has been for a long time – and you haven’t said anything, nothing, and it’s not okay, Draco.”

 

The words come out in a big rush all at once like he can’t stop them from pouring out. Draco’s eyebrows slowly rise at Harry who is sitting on the border of hysterical and he really doesn’t know where this came from. “Harry?”

 

But Harry can’t stop now, can’t contain himself. Like the floodgates have been opened, everything rushes out all at once. “Why are you doing this? Why are you _hurting_ yourself? I don’t understand and I stay up at night thinking and it’s going ‘round and ‘round in my head Draco but I still don’t understand. Make me understand. Make me see the logic behind this because I’m clearly missing it here.”

 

“Harr–”

 

“You’re so beautiful and perfect and smart,” Harry brings his hands to his head as if to show him where the confusion is, but really he’s just hysterical. “Can you give me some insight into why you’re…why you’re _starving_ yourself? Because it’s _not normal_ , Draco. You’re– _fuck_. I can’t even have you underneath anymore because I’m scared I’m going to crush you, scared I’m going to break you because you’re so _frail_. What is it? Is it me? Did I do something wrong? I’ve been trying so hard Dray. I kiss you every moment that I can and I always tell you that I love you, and if you think I’m lying I’m _not_. I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do with out you and I think about it so often because I’m afraid that I’m going to be without you if you don’t stop. I can see your _bones_. Don’t you understand? That’s _not – o – kay._ And you’re hurting _me_.” Harry’s voice breaks on the last word. The tears that have been welling in his eyes spill over and run down his cheeks. His bottom hip is trembling. His breaths are uneven. If he’s going to be honest with himself he just wants for this all to stop, for it all to be okay again. It was once, there was a time where everything was okay, and Draco used to be able to pin him down, he used to be stronger than Harry. He’s crying in earnest now, big heavy sobs that rip through him. His hands are balling up in fists, tearing up the grass, at his sides.

 

“Come here,” Draco says softly. He says it the way a mother would tell her child. He scoops (tries to) Harry into his lap and wraps his arms around him, putting Harry’s head on his shoulder and rubbing his back soothingly. Draco’s shoulder is jagged and hard. It’s bone, covered by a thin layer of cotton that does nothing for cushioning.

 

“You’re hurting me,” Harry continues to cry, “because I’m trying to make it better and I can’t. I don’t like seeing you so sick. You’re so tired all the time and you never used to be like that. I don’t know what’s wrong and – and you’re not talking to me about it. You don’t _tell_ me. I thought I was someone you could go to and feel okay. I thought – I t-thought –”

 

“Shh,” Draco soothes. “It’s not your fault. Never been your fault. Shh, don’t cry. I’m fine.” Harry cries harder, partially because Draco thinks he’s fine and for fuck sake he’s _not_ , and partially because the scene is all wrong. Harry should be the one comforting Draco, Harry should be on the taking care of him, Harry should be the one holding Draco in his arms and telling him that everything will be fine and they’ll fix this together and they will get through this and he’ll be better again. Harry should be being strong. But he’s not. He’s crying, wrapped in Draco’s bony arms and losing all control over himself. Draco’s the one supporting _him_ , whispering words of comfort to _him_ , telling _him_ that he’s loved and that everything will be alright. It’s so, so wrong. How can he be strong for Draco when he can’t even be strong for himself?

 

Draco keeps kissing his hair and hushing him. Harry’s so beautiful, he’s what made Draco feel okay with liking men, because the first time he saw Harry he thought he was the most beautiful out of everyone and how lucky is he that he likes men because that’s exactly what Harry is. “We’re going to be okay,” Draco tells him.

 

“We’re n-not,” Harry disagrees with red-rimmed eyes and hitching breath. He clung to Draco desperately, as if squeezing the sense into him would work.

 

“Yes we are,” Draco says, “you’ll see. There’s nothing wrong. Shh, we’ll be okay.” 


	3. The Third Drabble

“Did you buy the strawberries?”

 

 _Fuck_.

 

“Harry?”

 

He’d forgotten the blasted strawberries.

 

“I…ah…”

 

“You forgot the strawberries didn’t you?” Draco asked. He closed his eyes delicately while breathing in and then exhaled slowly, pursing his lips.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Harry said. “I bought everything else you asked for.”

 

“How am I supposed to bake a strawberry rhubarb meringue cake with no strawberries? Potter, you had one job.” Draco told him. “I asked you to do one thing for me and you forgot. I hate it when you are careless.”

 

“I know, I know.” Harry sighed. He ran a hand over his forehead and through his constantly messy, black hair. He took off his jacket it and put in on the back of the kitchen chair. “I can go back out again and get them if you want?”

 

Draco clenched his teeth. “I’ve already begun caramelising the rhubarb, there isn’t time.”

 

Harry felt terrible. “Could you maybe just use raspberries instead? We’ve plenty of those.” He suggested.

 

As soon as the words left his mouth he knew that it was a bad idea. Maybe he knew this because of the way Draco’s eyes widened considerably, or the way Draco’s hands clench the kitchen bench tightly, or maybe it was even slight curl of his upper lip. Either way, Harry knew that he had said the wrong thing.

 

“ _Raspberries?_ ” Draco hissed. “Did you just suggest that I use _raspberries?_ ”

 

“I…no…” Harry denied feebly. He had his hands up in front of his chest as if he was subconsciously defending himself. “I only meant…maybe…”

 

Draco walked forward, his eyes narrowed into predatory slits. Harry hastily walked back instinctively and jolted as his back hit the kitchen wall. Draco was so close that Harry could have counted each one of his eyelashes.

 

“Draco I–”

 

“Quiet.” Draco snapped. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Harry squeezed his lips shut and nodded his head vigorously. “Do you know the difference between raspberries and strawberries?” Draco demanded. Harry shook his head, not uttering a word. “Do you even know how to _spell_ raspberries?”

 

Draco’s hands immediately flew to Harry’s jumper and roughly pulled it over his head and threw it elsewhere. He then hastily unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off the raven and continued undressing him. “Let me educate you, Potter. Per cup, raspberries are 60 calories, whereas strawberries are only 46. Strawberries have nearly half the potassium that raspberries have. Strawberries are the only fruit that has its seeds grow on the outside.”

 

Draco had Harry naked and pressed up against the wall so that he had his back to him. While lecturing Harry he had stripped himself and now he placed his hands on Harry’s hips and sucked dark bruises into his neck. “I am so furious with you. _Raspberries_. People dip strawberries into melted chocolate and smear it across one another. People slice strawberries and slip them into to each other’s mouths. When people _fuck_ they want _strawberries_ , Potter.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpered. He was panting and biting his lip and he hadn’t even been touched yet. His erection throbbed, standing straight against his stomach.

 

“Do you know why I loathe raspberries, Potter?” Draco asked, ravaging his neck and fingers trailing downwards, preventing Harry from thinking clearly.

 

“Why?” Harry choked out.

 

“Because raspberries are _delicate_.” Draco whispered into his ear, causing Harry to shudder. “I do not like things that are delicate. I like things that are firm and durable,” he told him, squeezing his Harry’s bum to emphasise his point, “and _hard_ ,” reaching around to gently squeeze Harry’s cock and stroke it. Harry moaned out loud. “I don’t like things that are _soft_ , Potter, I can’t do anything with that.” He bit down hard on Harry’s shoulder and then licked over it, making Harry cry out.

 

“You are going to suck on my fingers and make them nice and wet, and then you are going to suck on my cock to make that nice and wet too. I am going to put my fingers inside of you and you will not have my permission to come. Then, I am going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to ride on a broom for a week. Only after I do, will you be allowed to come. After that, you will go back out and by me those strawberries for my cake, because you made so mad that the rhubarb is most likely fucking burnt by now. Is that clear to you, Potter? Are you positive you will not forget the instructions that I am giving you?”

 

“Y–yes, I’m sure,” Harry panted, swallowing hard. He couldn’t stop a helpless and desperate sound escape from his lips.

 

“Good boy.” 


	4. The Fourth Drabble

“Don’t make me go back,” Whispered Draco “ _please_.”  
  
There was a long silence as his parents observed him carefully. Draco was seventeen years old; he had white blond hair and matching pale skin. His eyes were a piercing grey colour and were presently gazing pleadingly at his parents.   
  
His mother broke the silence “I’m sorry Draco,” she sighed “but you’ll have to return to school on the first of September.”  
  
Fear coursed through Draco – he couldn’t go back. Not after what happened last year.   
“Unless,” his father added “you can give us a valid reason why we should transfer you.”   
  
I have a reason, thought Draco, but not one that I can share.   
  
“No,” Draco headed towards his bed room “I know a lost cause when I see one.”  
  
“Draco sweetheart,” his mother reached to grab his hand “why is it you don’t want to go back? You have friends, your grades are high – I can’t understand.”  
  
Draco faced his parents again. He looked into his mother’s worried eyes “Mother, why can’t I go to Dumstrang?” he asked desperately.   
  
“The Dark Lord wants you at Hogwarts Draco.” Luscious replied evenly. “The task the Dark Lord meant for you to do has been passed onto Severus. I see no reason why you should not return.”  
  
“Draco love, what is it that’s bothering you?” Narcissa implored her eyes searching Draco’s face as if a hidden clue was deep within his grey eyes.   
  
Luscious looked at his son “Draco, if for some reason you are –”   
  
“I’m not afraid of anything.” Draco said hotly. This was a lie. Draco was afraid…of _himself_ …  
  
“Darling you can tell us anything,” Said Narcissa softly.   
  
_I don’t need anyone_ , thought Draco.   
  
“Look,” said Draco, his temper rising “neither of you would understand so stop pestering me about it! I want it known that I’m going back to Hogwarts against my will.”  
  
“Yes thank you Draco, we realised.” Luscious said icily.

o - O -  o -  O -  o -  O -  o -  O -  o -  O -  o

 “I’m not going back!” shouted Harry unpacking the clothes he had in his trunk from last year.   
“Yes you bloody well are,” his Uncle Vernon yelled back “whilst you live under this roof you follow my rules!”   
  
Harry ran his hand through his dark hair in frustration. His green eyes were observing the scene before him.   
  
“I thought you hated Hogwarts and Magic?” retorted Harry. Uncle Vernon winced slightly at the words _Hogwarts_ and _Magic_.   
  
“You are _not_ staying here for a whole year boy!” his moustache twitching with rage. “And we will _not_ pay for school fees!”  
  
“You don’t understand,” he his hands up helplessly “I can’t go back to school. I just _can’t_.”  
Uncle Vernon began to resemble a thermometer very much as his face flushed a deep crimson “Explain to me why you can’t.”  
  
“I –” Harry hesitated and swallowed nervously “it’s personal.”   
  
Uncle Vernon pointed his finger at Harry “Now you listen here boy,” his voice quivering with anger “Your girlfriend problems are not going to stop you going to school.” He shut the door loudly as he left Harry’s bedroom.   
  
Yeah, Harry thought miserably, I wish.   
  
How was harry supposed to go back to Hogwarts after the way things finished last term?   
Harry fell back onto his bed and starred at the ceiling. He was being stupid of course; of course he would go back to Hogwarts. Staying with the Dursley’s has been a childish thought. He had his friends – Ron and Hermione – his magical education and Dumbledore. Staying with the Dursley’s all summer had been horrid. However The Burrow was not an option after the way Harry had ended things with Ginny…  
  
 _… “Ginny?” asked Harry “Can we talk alone for a moment?”_  
  
Harry led Ginny out of Gryffindor Tower into the corridors; he didn’t want to be over heard.   
He turned to face her and took a deep breath as he began to speak –   
  
“You’re going to break up with me.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone.   
  
Harry blinked in surprise “How – how did you know?”   
  
“Honestly Harry,” Ginny sighed “I know you to well.”  
  
Harry felt very confused. His expression must have betrayed his thoughts as Ginny elaborated.  
   
“Your mind’s been everywhere Harry!” she exclaimed “Surely you didn’t think that I didn’t notice? You used to be really into it Harry and I don’t just mean the sex. Don’t look at me like that.” She added sternly.   
  
“Look at you like what?” Harry asked defensively.   
  
“Like you don’t believe me.” She paused for a moment and then said “You used to hold my hand when we walked or light up when you saw me. These past few months you’ve been…I don’t know! Distracted? Unfocused?”    
  
“I have not!” Harry lied.   
  
“You’re a terrible liar Harry,” Ginny said lightly amused “and you know it – you have been distracted.” Ginny looked at him expectantly, her hands on her hips, resembling Mrs. Weasley.   
  
“I’m not seeing anyone!” Harry said firmly. This was true. He was seeing anyone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about someone…  
  
“I know that Harry,” Ginny smiled “You’re not that type of person. It’s what I love about you.” She brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear affectionately.   
  
“But I do love you,” Harry said earnestly “it’s just…”   
  
Ginny reached out and held both of his hands “I know,” she said softly “and I am sad. But its okay, I’m strong.”  
  
“Yeah,” smiled Harry “it’s one of the things I fell in love with.”   
  
Ginny took a deep breath “Harry, whatever it is you can tell me.” She said seriously.   
  
Harry swallowed and shuffled his feet uncomfortably “I can’t Gin,” he shrugged sadly.   
She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips for a moment and then turned back towards the Common Room.   
  
“I really am sorry Ginny.” Harry called out to her. He didn’t want Ginny to feel sad, he still did love her although however differently.   
  
“I know Harry,” she said with a smile in her voice “but you’re still my best friend.”   
  
Harry walked over to join her through the portrait hole “You’re telling Ron,” he grinned.   
  
“Yeah, when Kneazles fly,” Ginny snorted. They both entered Gryffindor Tower laughing hysterically… 

Ginny wasn’t the issue, it was Ron. Although both Harry and Ginny had told Ron that they were both comfortable with ending their relationship.

Friends embraced each other as they reunited from the Summer Break. Everyone was happy and excited, except for Harry. He reluctantly left sanctuary of his crriage and with his suitcases in his hands he headed towards the school in quick succession; he didn’t want to be noticed.

o - O -  o -  O -  o -  O -  o -  O -  o -  O -  o

On the other side of campus Draco’s mother handed his suitcases “Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.” She said crisply. “Have a good year.”

 The sun had slipped away pulling a blanket of stars above the roof of Hogwarts. Students spilled out of hallways as they went to dinner.   
  
“I won’t keep you from dinner,” said Draco’s English teacher, “we’ll discuss the essay tomorrow.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Draco smiled. As he turned around to head towards the Dining Hall Draco collided into another student.   
  
“Watch wher –” Draco began his throat constricted upon seeing the person in front of him and the rest of the sentence died on his lips. Harry Potter stood facing him. The two boys surveyed each other anxiously. Draco’s heart beat frantically in his chest; he wondered whether it was audible? Harry scrutinized Draco uneasily, his thoughts flashed back to last year. Had he told anyone? Fear spiked his blood as that question flashed across his head.   
  
Draco shifted his weight onto his other foot. He felt sick, his stomach was churning. This was what he had been dreading.   
  
Harry took a deep breath and swallowed, he couldn’t let this ruin his year.  He opened his mouth to say something but –   
  
“Oi Harry!” called out a voice from a far table “Hurry up would you?”  
Harry looked back at Draco a slight crease forming between his eyebrows as he studied Draco’s grey eyes. Then, he allowed the commotion and bustle of dinner to separate them.   
No, no one had forgotten.

School work didn’t distract him as he would have liked it to. Draco punctuated his sentence with his pen and stole a glance towards the front of the classroom. He watched Harry hurriedly scrawl across his page.

Harry was nearly finished his paragraph but he didn’t need to look into the mirror at the front of the room to feel Draco’s stare burning into him. School work didn’t distract him as he would have liked it to.

Draco wasn’t sleeping. So many _questions_ so many _thoughts_ so many _feelings_. Was right the new wrong and wrong the new right?

Harry wasn’t sleeping. Acceptance, approval – did he need those things? The dangerous three letter word constantly badgered him: _why_.

The bell had signalled lunch three minutes ago. However harry was still seated at his desk adding the last few sentences to his piece. Food had turned into a chore, an annoying human necessity these days.

Draco sighed out aloud in annoyance; he had left his exercise in the classroom.  Changing his direction he headed towards the upstairs classroom. Food had begun to mean less and less to him anyway these days.

Harry put his paper into his folder as he packed up his books. He turned to leave the classroom only to find Draco in standing in the door way. The corridors were deserted, as was the building. Tension became a new element, a solid air that filled the room and flowed through both boys.   
Boldly, Draco walked to his desk and picked up the book he had left. The urgent need to go but stay plagued Draco. He moved towards the door.   
  
“ _Wait_!” Called Harry, Draco spun around to face him.  
   
Harry wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. “Look,” Draco began with a shaky voice “about _…last year_.”  
  
“I don’t know what happened,” interjected Harry, “but it was a onetime thing.” His pulse pounded in his ears. “No one needs to know,” Harry continued breathlessly. “We should just forget it.”  
Draco felt like he was a doorway: so many emotions were trying to escape at once that nothing was getting through. He felt a sort of numbness. Perhaps this new aesthetic flowing through him was the only motive for what happened next.   
  
Draco stepped closer Harry and was hit with a strong wave of déjà vu. This was an almost perfect replica of what happened last year, except this time it felt right.   
  
“What if I don’t want to forget it?” Draco breathed he leaned forward hesitantly, his lips brushing against Harry’s. Harry could feel Draco’s warm breath and closed his eyes as moved closer, giving in…

 


	5. The Fifth Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HighschoolAU

**The Fifth Drabble**

“What’s the difference between alliteration and assonance?”

“Alliteration is a string of words that initiate with the same letter, whereas assonance is when a string of words have a recurring vowel sound.”

“That’s confusing.”

“It isn’t really.”

“Draco.”

“Harry.”

Harry looked up at the ceiling and groaned, “Why are you so difficult?”

“I’m not,” Draco replied.

“You are though,” he stressed. “I came here to study!”

“We are studying!”

“No, but when I asked you to study I didn’t want to actually study.” Harry informed him.

“Well that was rather stupid of you.” Draco told him, licking his thumb and index finger and then turning the page of his metalanguage textbook.

“Don’t you know what I wanted to do instead?” Harry prompted. He abandoned his books and placed them on the end of the bed, crawling off and walking over to the desk at which Draco was sitting. He moved Draco’s back pack off the desk and sat down on the cold wood, looking down at the blond boy whose tie hung loosely around his neck.

“Not particularly, no.” He tucked a stray hair behind his ear.

“Want you to teach me other things,” Harry said lowly, saying it into Draco’s ear, his warm breath tickling Draco’s neck. “Other stuff that’s more interesting than hyperboles.”

“ _Hyperboles_ ,” Draco said, correcting his pronunciation.

Harry ignored him. He pressed soft kisses just underneath Draco’s ear and placed his hands on the other boy’s shoulders, squeezing slightly. His mouth started to make a trail, kissing around Draco’s jaw and cheeks, until finally he reached his mouth. He placed a chaste kiss there, two, and then pushed his mouth against Draco’s harder, parting his lips and letting his tongue trace over the front row of Draco’s teeth. Draco’s head was tilted back and his nose brushed the underside of Harry’s chin as they kissed.

“Harry,” he said, breaking away, “we have exams in two weeks and you cannot even pronounce hyperbole. We need to study.”

“Study me,” Harry quipped. Draco smirked and shook his head in both amusement and exasperation. “Come _on_ ,” Harry whined, “it’ll help me feel more awake.”

“No, it will make you fall asleep.” Draco laughed.

Harry pouted. “You don’t want to.”

Draco put his head in his hands and then, sighing, threw his head back and let out a sound of frustration. He got up and sat next to Harry, who had walked back over to the bed and lay down with his face in the pillow. Draco lay next to him, his nose touching the side of Harry’s face that wasn’t enveloped by the pillow. “‘course I _want_ to. Always want to. You know that. It’s just…come on Harry, don’t do this. We have so much work to do.”

Harry turned his head, his eyes looking across at Draco and they were so close that they could feel the other’s breath tickling their face. “Please,” harry whispered in a small tone, looking at him with full eyes and long lashes.

Draco bit his lip and willed for self-control. He ran his hand through Harry’s messy hair to which he sighed at the contact. “Yeah,” he eventually sighed, “yeah alright.” He put his hand on the small of Harry’s back, bringing them closer and slipped his leg between Harry’s and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've made a tumblr...and running a blog is a bit new so I a bit boggled but yeah. I'm here "yeahnahbutseriously"  
> Feedback is always appreciated :) xx

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated :)) Thanks for reading!
> 
> I figured that if I'm going to provide you with fluffy slash, I might as well teach you some Aussie (Australian) words while I'm at it!
> 
> *"Doona" – duvet/covers/that big blanket on your bed
> 
> **"What do you reckon?" (Pronounced: wha-d'ya recken) – what do you think?


End file.
